


Purple

by the_genderman



Series: Panchromium [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Beginnings, Cute Kids, Gen, Making Friends, Pre-Captain America: The First Avenger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 03:03:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13538319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: Purple. The color of kings. The color of humility. The color of pride. The color of bruises. The color of penance. The color of creativity. The color of justice.





	Purple

**Author's Note:**

> This was written really quickly. I hope it's ok. Going back and looking at how Bucky and Steve (might have) met.

The schoolyard had its rules. The older boys had their ‘protection’ racket and the younger boys paid their dues. The younger boys might grumble, reluctantly handing over their pennies, but they paid all the same. The older boys ruled the schoolyard. They made the rules, they enforced the rules. Bucky was torn between wanting their approval—they were proud, they were confident, they knew what they wanted and they went out there and took it—and wanting to see them taken down a peg, wanting someone to confront them for what he knew they truly were.

Bucky’s first memory of Steven Grant Rogers was of a scrawny, almost fragile-looking, whirlwind of righteous fury, descending on the ‘protection’ boys like Cú Chulainn himself, reborn. (Bucky was an avid reader, dipping into any subject that caught his fancy; this month was Irish myths and legends. Even if his classmates didn’t appreciate his heritage, that was no reason _he_ shouldn’t.) Though his pants were patched, Steve carried himself like a king. Never mind that he’d left that confrontation having lost his lunch money and having gained a slight limp and a split lip (and a shiner that turned a spectacular shade of purple), he was still the first to stand up to the older boys. That stuck with Bucky. He found himself drawn to this contradictory boy.

The next day, he ducked out of class as soon as the bell rang, sprinting to the front doors of the school, where he took up his position. Watch and wait, little Cú Chulainn would have to pass by eventually. Keeping his eyes peeled, he scanned the crowd as they passed through the double doors, streaming out and making for home. The stream tapered to a trickle, then a mere drip as a few late stragglers made their way out, homeward bound, finally. But Bucky hadn’t seen the boy yet. Had he missed him? A little kid like that, he could easily have slipped past, hidden in the shadows of the older students. Bucky shook his head, discarding that thought. No, little Cú Chulainn had far too big of a personality for him to be overlooked. So he waited.

Just as Bucky had almost given up waiting, deciding that he’d probably been kept home by an overprotective mother after the beating he’d taken, the door opened and little Cú Chulainn pushed through, schoolbag thrown awkwardly over one shoulder. He was looking down, eyes to the sidewalk. Bucky pushed himself up from his lean against the wall and called out a “Hey!”

Little Cú Chulainn was immediately alert. He dropped his bag, fists up, ready to fight. His mouth was pressed into a scowl.

“Whoa, easy there,” Bucky said, raising his hands in concession as he approached. “What’s your name?”

“Why d’you wanna know?” Little Cú Chulainn asked, suspicion clouding his voice. He didn’t relax his stance, feet planted but poised to move.

“My name’s Bucky,” Bucky said, offering him an olive twig (not the whole branch, just yet). “I saw your fight yesterday. I thought you did pretty good.”

“Your ma named you Bucky?”

“No, I named myself Bucky. My ma named me James Buchanan Barnes, after the president. It’s a mouthful, and there’s already three other Jameses in my class.”

“Yeah, alright. Bucky. I’m Steve. Rogers.”

“Nice to meet ya, Steve,” Bucky said, sticking out his hand.

Steve took it and shook. “You meant that? When you said you thought I did pretty good? But I lost.”

“Yeah, but no one else’s even bothered to try. We’d just all paid ‘em so we wouldn’t get all busted up like you did,” Bucky explained, picking up Steve’s bag and walking slowly down the sidewalk, waiting for Steve to point the way home.

“Nobody?” Steve asked, scandalized.

“Nobody,” Bucky shook his head.

“Well, what about you?” Steve asked, his eyes probing into Bucky.

Buck squirmed, considering a palatable lie. No, Steve deserved the truth from him, even if it made him look bad. “I shoulda, but I never did. Part of me wanted to, but part of me almost admired them.”

“But they’re bullies!”

“I know—I said ‘almost.’ They’re never afraid of anyone or anything, and I kinda envied that.”

“They’re still bullies,” Steve huffed, side-eyeing Bucky.

“I know, I was wrong,” Bucky said, turning to make eye contact with Steve. “You helped me see that.”

“I did?” Steve asked, coming to an abrupt stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, reaching out hesitantly to pat Steve’s shoulder companionably. When Steve made no move to shake him off, Bucky continued. “The way you just charged in there in like you weren’t afraid of nothing? I’d never seen anything like that before. Didn’t matter that you were smaller than them, you saw that they were wrong, and you were gonna do something about it. Rest of us were too scared, but not you. So, uh, you wanna be friends?”

“You wanna be friends with me?” Steve asked, his voice betraying his surprise.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Bucky asked.

“You don’t think I’m too small?” Steve asked, suddenly wary again.

Bucky just shrugged.

“I get sick a lot. My lungs don’t work so well, so I can’t run around and play as much as the other boys. Sometimes I just stay inside and draw,” Steve said.

“So, we play as much as you want to, then we can go back and read or play cards or you can teach me how to draw, too,” Bucky offered. 

“You really wanna be friends with me?” Steve asked, more quietly.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Bucky replied. “Do you not wanna?”

“Of course I do,” Steve hurried to answer. “It’s just, I don’t have a lot of friends.”

“Well, I don’t either, really,” Bucky admitted. “My family just moved here last year, and I wanna fit in, but I don’t really have a place yet.”

“Is that why you looked up to those bullies?” Steve asked sympathetically.

Bucky nodded, eyes downturned.

“Well, yeah, we can be friends, of course,” Steve said. “You just gotta promise me one thing.”

“Sure.”

“You gotta do your best, even if you’re scared. Cause if it’s the right thing to do, you gotta do it.”

“Well, I’ll be less scared if you’re there too so it’s not just me alone. You got a deal,” Bucky said, spitting into his palm and extending his hand to shake.

“Deal,” Steve repeated, spitting into his own palm and taking Bucky’s hand. They shook, then each promptly grimaced and wiped his hand on his pants.

“Ok, that was gross,” Bucky said.

“Yeah,” Steve replied. “Maybe next time we don’t do that.”

“Definitely,” Bucky said, putting his arm around Steve’s shoulders. “Now come on, I’ll walk you home.”  



End file.
